T4Connor's War
by Hedwig1
Summary: Judgment Day. It had come. Just as the robot said it would...but while John Connor's destiny was to save the world, Kate's destiny...was him. [CHAPTER 8 UP!]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I of course…don't own any of The Terminator legend. The world and its characters belong to James Cameron and the Hollywood powers that be. I'm simply borrowing them for a while.**

T4-Connor's War

Chapter 1

            "No fate but what we make." That was her philosophy. Six ordinary words-the very fabric of Sarah Connor's being. She lived by these words. Died by them. Words she'd prayed for…hoped for…and knew were wrong. Now her son, destined from birth to ascend to power in the wake of the nuclear holocaust; meant to lead the human resistance to victory in a war waged by machines that had risen above their creators…John Connor was left to claim the throne he never wanted. Become the legend his mother bestowed on him in his cradle. It had come. Judgment Day. And he was left to clean up the mess. 

            No fate but what we make. But that wasn't ever true was it? Sarah knew it. What a fool he had been. Thinking he could yet again stop the world from destroying itself. But he had counted on it. His whole life, he had counted on the inevitable. It was the only true way to survive. Yes, John Connor had counted on it all. The bombs, the screams, and the deafening silence that followed. The only thing he hadn't counted on…was her…

* * *

            "Hang on everyone!" Kate shouted as she slammed the accelerator of the ancient RV and drove it over mounds of rubble. Visibility had improved since the end of the snowcrash. The air still stank of burnt rubber and death, but Kate couldn't tell much with her orange and black radiation suit fitted to her. Besides, she'd gotten used to it. 

            Her calloused hands yanked at the steering as she grinded towards Crystal Peak. _2 months, _she thought despairingly as she chanced a glance behind her. 4 men, a woman and a boy, uselessly nursing wounds as they huddled in the back of the cabin, gripping handlebars as the RV lowed through the endless wreckage. _2 months since Judgment Day and this is the first sign of life._

            There was a part of Kate Brewster that still clung like a schoolgirl to the belief that this was all just some outlandish nightmare. She'd wake eventually in the protective arms of her fiancée, Scott, and her problems would consist solely of how to get her father to take some time off to meet him…_Daddy_, she thought but shrugged it off, refusing to grieve the loss of the one man as she drove the RV over the graves of thousands. 

            Truth be told, that hopeful, wishful part of Kate was nearly gone. She knew now her place in this world…what was left of it. In a way, she had always known. She was Kathryn Brewster, and her place was with John.

            John Connor had appeared at a party, on a night that could now only be described as fateful, 10 years ago. Students together in junior high, John gave Kate her first real taste of adolescence in Mike Cripky's basement. He was the perfect boy to be her first kiss. Delinquent. Rebellious. A total mess. Everything the General's daughter was looking for. But his presence in her life was merely a necessary event. One of those special moments in time that a girl would dutifully remember as she approached womanhood, but never dwell on. There was nothing really special about John Connor…except that he disappeared the next day. So when he stumbled into her animal clinic 3 months ago…_only 3 months ago_…Kate preferred the word coincidence to the laws of fate and destiny that had governed her counterpart for so long…but it was destiny. Hers and his. 

            "Kate," a voice cut in through her helmet, muffled with static. "Kate---you copy?"

            She adjusted the frequency on the board in front of her. "I copy. We're entering the perimeter."

            More garbled words answered her, but she was pretty sure she heard 'thank God' somewhere in the static. A grin tugged at her mouth, but never became a smile.

            "Prepare for decontamination," she spoke both to the voice on the radio and her passengers in back as an image of shattered glass flashed in her mind…

_            "Are you insane? Kate, you're not trained for this."_

_            "Neither are you," she snapped back, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. She was nearly appalled. After 2 months…2 months of complete solitude, with only each other to keep themselves sane, John and Kate had finally reached out beyond their desolate wasteland in the Sierra Nevada mountains and found survivors. Together, they'd labored for weeks updating, repairing and modifying the base, tampering with old radios, broadening the signal while trying not to expose it to Skynet. John knew they couldn't stay here indefinitely. Skynet had access to every government secret ever conceived…but it would have to suffice in the immediate wake. _

_The call hailed from a research facility called Mercury-Tech outside the state border, just beyond the blast radius of the nearest target point. This was the beginning. The strengthening of numbers. The formation of the great Resistance…and John was seriously going to stand here and argue about which one of them would command the search?_

_They both knew the underlying issue of course. Words neither wanted to speak for fear of making them real. Kate refused to risk John's life, knowing now how important he was to be, on the very first mission…and John refused to be treated like a fragile object. In the end, Kate had won out, but not before John shattered an empty ration bottle against the wall in frustration. _

_Beneath the surface, Kate understood all too well why she had angered him. The transformation had been gradual, but constant since Judgment Day. His hardened façade. The shutting down of emotions. A single man forced to literally bear the weight of the world on his shoulders since boyhood, living off the grid; unattached from the humanity he was destined to save. A man…alien to the prospect of having to _share_ that responsibility. She saw it in his eyes every time she argued, disagreed, hesitated. John Connor had lived his life knowing he would do it alone. John Connor was wrong. And she'd be damned if she allowed that to happen…_

"We're approaching the south gate," Kate spat into her helmet, sweat beading down her face as she fought the uncontrollable urge to rip off her sweltering mask. When they finally docked and descended underground, Kate never thought she'd be so happy to see the base again.

As she emerged with their newfound crew into operations, John met her eyes with a solemn nod, his gaze brief but intense. Then, without a word, he ushered the survivors down the corridor towards a makeshift triage point in med-labs. Kate was left without a welcome, exhausted and alone. 

But she felt neither rejected nor spurned. This was war and there were no pleasantries here. No room for breathy hellos or anguished good-byes…merely a nod. That nod was all she needed. A gaze that spoke volumes more than a welcoming embrace ever could, because it was meant only for her…for Kate; a look that screamed emotions the rest of the resistance would never see. For in that brief moment of her return she saw staring back at her not John Connor, leader of the resistance, but a boy in Mike Cripky's basement. A thief crouched in her clinic. Raw need and relief glowed ever so slightly as he turned from her and lead the new arrivals down the hallway. John's destiny may be to save the world…but Kate's destiny…was _him._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I of course…don't own any of The Terminator legend. The world and its characters belong to James Cameron and the Hollywood powers that be. I'm simply borrowing them for a while.**

T4-Connor's War

Chapter 2

John had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as he fought with impatience. "That makes no sense! They're _ machines_ right? _Computers?_ We…we _made _them!" the woman screeched, hysterical. An artificial intelligence that had mutated into a state of self-awareness was a familiar concept to John. Practically commonplace in his world. But to them, it was inconceivable. His face bordered on pity, beholding this woman and her companions who had lived their sheltered lives, placing their trust in the engineers and programmers who had opened Pandora's Box. 

"Try to understand," he said in low tones, in a voice so steadfast, he barely recognized it as his own. "The military was developing a highly advanced form of global communication. So advanced that it started to evolve all on its own. By the time they realized what had happened-"

"So it's the fucking army's fault?" one of the men cried, wincing as his outburst shifted the dressing on his wounded shoulder. 

"This wasn't any _one_ person's fault," he emphasized, his eyes meaningfully fixed on Kate as she entered the room to join them. The message was delivered for she nodded a silent thank you…though a part of Kate would always be burdened with the fact that it had been her father, Robert, responsible for activating Skynet. She attended the child crouched in the corner as John continued. "The point is, the machines have taken over. And they won't stop until they've destroyed every shred of humanity left on the planet. Every man is a threat to their existence-"

"Bullshit!" the same man shouted on the far cot. "Just what are you tryin' to pull huh?" John's eyes narrowed towards this man, but he did not respond. He was plastered with bandages, a huge gash running up his right arm and the beginnings of a scar across his cheek. In another life, the man might have been a successful athlete or Hollywood film star. Wheat-blonde hair, impressive build evident despite the dressings. But he looked no different from the rest of the flock around him. Battered, bruised and betrayed by something so seemingly intangible, he was forced into denial. "It was a terrorist attack!" he pounded his fists on the hard mattress, shouting to the others like a toddler determined to have his way. "Bastards in the middle east probably out drinkin' beer right now while we sit here listening to this fucking lunatic!"

"Hey!" Kate whirled on him from her place still beside the boy but John shook his head and she was obligingly quiet once more. No one else dared speak as John stepped forward, staring him down. "What's your name, friend?" he asked, his voice still low and unwavering. 

"Kane," he spat, "Martin Kane." John looked at him for a long while, studying every line of his mangled face, learning the expressions, the fears of this man he knew he would eventually need to trust…as would they all. When he finally spoke, his words were far from menacing…but almost kind. 

"Well Mr. Kane, I wish you were right…matter of fact, I pray to God that you are." He withdrew from a bewildered Kane and turned his attentions to the rest of the anxious group. "The only way to beat these machines is to survive them first and fight them later. You people are the first among a very few who have made it through the attack," he glanced back at Kane, "and there _will_ be others." Kane crossed his arms, huffing as he lowered his head, but offered no more protests. "I know how difficult this must be to…digest. But know that we're on your side," he stole another look at Kate as he finished, "we're in this together." 

* * *

            The rest of the bunch seemed either too scared or too tired to fight, like Kane, what they all knew in their hearts was the truth. With mild gratitude for the rescue and shelter, they each retired to the quarters prepared in shallower levels of the compound. John was careful to learn every name and history.

            There were six in all, five of whom were found at Mercury Tech. The two who initially made contact with their facility's radio were Jo and Michael Kinsella, a brother and sister research team who had stayed passed working hours to finish a series of trials they called the Gemini Project. They had taken in Rico Ferrari, an 18 year-old convenience store clerk, and the vacationing Dr. Luke Mitchell from San Francisco, who together, traveled nearly 3 weeks from Ferrari's tiny market basement in what was left of Colorado Springs. Kane stumbled across Mercury Tech not long after Rico and Luke arrived just as his battered Ford pick-up ran out of gas. The last of the group was a boy of about 12 or 13…who refused to say a word. Kate had found him not far from the lab in the cellar of what she assumed was an old apartment building. 

            By the end of the night, John found himself staring at the surveillance monitors in Operations…a sad substitute for the comfort of an open window. He was prepared for Kane's reaction today and to be honest, expected more from the others. Nevertheless, it strained his confidence. His will to see destiny through. 

            In fact, he was so drained, his guard let down, that he nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry," a soft voice mumbled as Kate came from behind and pulled up a chair, her hand still on his arm. Instinctively, John grasped for it, lacing his fingers through hers and held it to his knee. They sat for a long while, listening to the whir of the generators powering the compound as John took in the feel of her hand…drank in her presence. There was no need for words and in the end, it was Kate who spoke again. "You did well today." 

            "So did you," his answer. Almost automatic. As if he'd been waiting all day to tell her so. "Really I…you made good time," his words fumbled along, his eyes still fixed on their clasped hands. Kate smiled. It seemed all he could offer for the moment. It was enough.

"I tried again with the boy." John looked up and she sadly shook her head. "Can't say I'm surprised. Someone so young." She looked down, "makes you almost wish…" she trailed off, her voice ashamed. But John squeezed her hand hard with understanding.

"…that he had just died," he finished in a whisper. Kate's shoulders hitched as she choked back a sob. A single tear trailed down her cheek and John found himself longing to reach forward and brush it away…but he let it fall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I of course…don't own any of The Terminator legend. The world and its characters belong to James Cameron and the Hollywood powers that be. I'm simply borrowing them for a while.**

T4-Connor's War

Chapter 3

"We'll talk about it when I get home," Mark said impatiently into his cell phone. They were calling his flight and this argument was only getting worse. 

_"No! We'll talk about it now! How could you say a thing like that to my mother?"_

_"She had it comin' Jo-"_

_"She's my mother!"_

_"Yeah, and I'm finally beginning to see the family resemblance-" _but the phone cut off just then. Skynet had taken control of the cell network…and Jo Kinsella never heard from her fiancée again.

"No!" she cried, wrenching her arms out from beneath the scratchy blanket, swinging her sweaty legs over the edge of her cot. It had happened again. The dream. She was back in her lab, observing the results from the second wave of trials on the Gemini experiment to keep her mind off of Mark. Mikey, her brother and partner in crime, had just arrived from the warehouse with a new set of samples…and that was when the ground shook.

It was about 6:20. The rest of the staff left well over an hour beforehand as Jo would have too. But she couldn't face going home to an empty apartment, pictures of her and Mark scattered everywhere…what she wouldn't give for one of those pictures now.

Mikey, ever the dutiful sibling, agreed to postpone his date with HBO and finish with the set of tests they were working on. It had been dubbed the Gemini experiment because they had conceived of a delicate set of bio-mechanical cells that could be used to duplicate human tissue. The goal was to eventually end up with a new medical procedures that would allow doctors to replicate human tissue for skin grafting, cosmetic surgery and other such types of operations. She and Mikey had devoted the past three years to the research at the expense of postponing her wedding to Seattle wiz-kid, Mark Anderson twice…Mikey was now all she had left of that life. And he was the first to rush to her side when she screamed.

Mike flipped on the light to her quarters, still fumbling with his glasses as he knelt beside the cot. "Jo! Jo, it's all right!"

Jo clung to her brother, forcing herself to remember they were safe now…for the moment. But Mikey's comforting face, raked with chemical burns and bandages was only a chilling reminder of everything they had lost. Mark's angry voice echoed in her head as she collapsed in short, violent sobs. 

"Is she ok?" Mike heard behind him as he rocked his sister in his arms; something he'd done so often when they were kids. Jo was only a year younger than her brother, to the day in fact, and she had always joked that someday, she'd catch up to that final year. She'd fashioned her whole life around this concept in order to do just that and was actually the first of the two to earn a PHD in biochemistry. They began their research at Mercury-Tech right after Jo got the grant money. She'd done more than half the research, even headed their division. In many ways, she _had_ caught up to her big brother…but on some points, he would always be the elder.

Mike twisted around, patting her head as he recognized the woman Kate who had journeyed nearly 2 days to rescue them. He nodded and turned back to Jo. "She's fine."

Kate remained a while longer, studying the girl, her arms clenched tight around her brother as she mumbled incoherently remnants of the nightmare she'd had…it was then Kate noticed it- a tiny sparkle, shimmering in the light spilling in from the corridor…an engagement ring. Her stomach gave a slight lurch.

Luke Mitchell who had also heard the scream appeared in the doorway, concerned and exhausted. Kate did her best to assure him all was well and then stole one more glance at the girl before closing the door behind her. _Girl_...she thought. But Jo Kinsella wasn't a girl. She was a woman. A strikingly pretty 27-year-old woman…older than Kate! A woman who had been successful and loved. A woman who'd been engaged…

Kate started as a hand covered hers, still clutching the door handle to Jo's room. She could still hear her sobs as she turned to John, his eyes heavy and unguarded. "Are you ok?" he spoke with that same intense voice he used now, his sparse yet meaningful words a continuing comfort in the past few months. 

She nodded toward the door, "She just…had a nightmare."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you ok?" he repeated. Kate smiled then, understanding, as she slipped into his arms-a wordless answer. John's arms, always tense, were as comforting as his voice was commanding. Lulled by the muffled sobs behind Jo's door, Kate rested her head against his hard shoulder and closed her eyes. At once, she felt his nerves buckle and she relished the slight ease of tension her embrace inspired. John breathed deeply…fully…for the first time,  it seemed, since she'd been away. Then he too shut his eyes as they took a moment out of time and revisited a memory…

"Crystal Peak."

_"What? What is he saying?"_

_"It's your only chance…take care of my daughter-"_

_"Get down!"_

_"Daddy!" Kate shrieked as she gasped for air, clutching her sweat-soaked tank top to her breast. Struggling to slow her erratic breathing, she gulped and flicked on the lamp. She checked her watch as light spilled into the cell-like room. 12:02am. She had slept exactly 20 minutes since the last nightmare. And every time she awoke, it was the same. Dizziness, disorientation. Confusion. Where was she? Where was Scott? Where- she closed her eyes as if she could shut out reality. She was home. Daddy was at work. Scott had been kept late at the office…and John Connor was just some punk kid from junior high that-_

_Kate's eyes flew open again, and she began to cry. Judgment Day. The end of the world. It had come just as the robot said it would. Just six hours ago, she stood before a deadened radio, waiting for the bombs to stop. Her tears were silent and mournful- and brief. She gathered herself together and snatched at the wooly blanket tangled and discarded round her ankles. She shivered, suddenly cold, pulling it around her as her feet touched the chilly floor. Slowly, she pushed the door open and jumped._

_Kate wondered vaguely why she was surprised that he should be sitting there…right there, in the hallway as if waiting for her. He was propped up against the opposite wall, arms resting on his knees, a small piece of paper in his hand. His eyes met hers, a mixture of apology and concern. "John," she whispered and she came to him._

_John waited as she settled down next to him, her arm barely brushing his as she pulled the blanket tighter around her neck, instinctively trying to hide her filmy damp tank top. He watched her, nervous…trembling slightly and she was oddly reminded of a boy she met once in a dimly lit basement. But that image vanished when she'd finally sat and he turned a sober gaze back to the paper in his hand. "You ok?" he asked quietly. _

_It was then Kate noticed it wasn't paper, but a photograph. A tiny Polaroid of a woman  looking oddly content. She nodded, leaning a bit closer as she shamefully strained a look at what was obviously a very private possession. John didn't seem to mind. "My mother," he said, fingering the edges delicately as he brought it closer to her. The woman was beautiful. Young, but strangely wise, bearing a look of serenity on her face that no longer belonged in this world. "Sarah Connor," he said, introducing her._

_Kate thoughtfully chewed her bottom lip, searching for something to say. But nothing seemed adequate. _

_"I'm sorry about your dad," he said suddenly. Kate reeled back, gaping between John and the picture. "What?" but he simply shrugged. "It wasn't your fault-"_

_"I know," he said quickly, turning to face her, determined not to be misunderstood. He held out the picture to her meaningfully, "that's what she always told me." _

_For a second, Kate hesitated, unsure of what she was to do now. Gently, he placed the photo in her palm and she felt the weight of what it meant to him in her hand. Her eyes met his and at last she understood. It _wasn't_ his fault. And it wasn't _hers_ either. "Thank you," she whispered and the tears fell again._

_John gave a small smile as his own eyes watered. He parted his arms, beckoning her and Kate at once nestled against his shoulder. John sighed as he hugged her close and remained there while she fell asleep…_

_* * *_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I of course…don't own any of The Terminator legend. The world and its characters belong to James Cameron and the Hollywood powers that be. I'm simply borrowing them for a while.**

T4-Connor's War

Chapter 4

Dr. Luke Mitchell would never know if his wife, Ellen was dead. She _was_ of course. Along with the rest of San Francisco. But he would spend the rest of his life praying against the odds. 

            He'd lost contact with her when he was kicked off line in his Marriott Hotel suite. Chucking it up to a minor network error, and too rushed to give her a quick call, he barely gave it a second thought as he left to meet his son Chris and new fiancée, Kimberly, that afternoon for dinner. But Luke never made it to dinner that night. The floor of his silver Lexus shook violently and he at once assumed it was an earthquake. Having lived in California his whole life though, he was used to those tremors and it was soon apparent this was something far more severe. 

            Luke Mitchell was 52 years old but looked not a day over 40. Grays and whites streaked through his hair and beard, accenting his angular features and brown eyes. He was known, in fact, by his nurses and associates as Doctor Striker!…all his nurses were dead now.

            It was useless to go out looking for Ellen. Foolish in fact as he had barely made it to that desolate gas station/convenient store on the outskirts o town. It was there he came across Rico Ferrari, a kid really, barely 18 left by himself to run the store. In him, Luke seized the opportunity he had now lost with his own son. Refusing to deal with the grief of losing his only boy, the good doctor set about helping the lad who had sustained mild injuries and the two of them set out across the American wasteland.  

            Now…sitting here in this place Mr. Connor had called Crystal Peak, the cries of the woman down the hall echoing in her mind as she mourned her own losses, there was nothing left to do but grieve. Before the tears came however, he was again distracted by a small clattering down the corridor. For the second time that night, Luke ventured down the hall and peered into the next room. It was the room Kate had given the boy…the boy who hadn't said a word since they picked him up. The boy had flipped his cot on its side and was hunched against the wall, wide awake behind it and clutching a flashlight to his chest. Luke was reminded strangely not of a boy, but of a soldier holding his own in the trenches of World War II. Still, the fear in his eyes was unmistakably that of a 12 year old. 

            "Hey Champ," he offered, tapping into paternal instincts lying dormant since he divorced Alice. The boy made no indication that he even heard. Luke stepped forward. "You uh…you ok?" Again, nothing but an empty stare. His physician instincts urged him to bend down, examine him, search for brain damage, illness. But he did nothing- which is what he suspected he would find anyway. This kid was impervious. Luke recalled watching Kate try for hours to make some kind of connection with him. It was no wonder he'd had no better luck. Defeated, Luke's shoulders slumped and he retreated back without a word.

            His back to the room now, Luke never saw the boy's eyes dart up, watch him, study him, stealthy and alert as he walked away. 

* * *

            "So, you think once they…re-mobilize, they'll come after us here next?" Jo asked, her voice still shaking, but far calmer than her hysterical shriek from the previous evening. 

            John nodded, not looking up from the AK-47 he was assembling. Jo stared half frightened-half comforted by how rapidly his hands moved over the contraptions of the weapon. "It's only a matter of time. We have to move out soon, establish new grounds they can't detect."

            "But this is a secure location right?" Mike asked from his place in the corner. "I mean, we're miles below ground…weapons, surveillance?" It was morning at Crystal Peak. After a rather restless night for everyone, Jo and Mike ventured out early and discovered John in med-labs, taking inventory and organizing more weapons than either had ever seen. Shortly after, Kate joined them, groggy but capable as she began to redress a bandage on Mike's forearm. Eventually, the entire crew had assembled. Even Martin Kane, who after enduring several of his own nightmares, was significantly subdued. The only one missing…was the boy.

            "You have to remember this is a government facility," John continued, glancing up and acknowledging Mike. "The location was undisclosed to most of the army. But it's in a database _somewhere_. They'll find it…and destroy it."

            Ricco, sitting atop an elevated stretcher, shifting uncomfortably as Dr. Mitchell gave him another shot of pain medication, sighed audibly, "So this is what it's gonna be like? Us just… _running_ from place to place 'till they catch us?"

            John paused his work and regarded the teen. But it was Kate who answered. "Only until we've built up enough of a resistance to fight them." The room was silent, unconvinced. She tried again, "we're already stronger _now._" She looked to John for help…but he was just grinning at her.

            "So…where to?" Kane asked, his eyes still determinedly fixed on the coffee pot he'd been staring at all morning. It was the first time he'd spoken since his outburst the night before.

            John cocked back his finished rifle, "South." 

* * *

            The boy remained behind his fort, now reinforced by a second cot, several crates and an average-sized camp stove. John was torn between admiration for his resilience…and the temptation to chuckle at the absurd sight before him. After all, the machines were unlikely to be deterred by a 1957 authentic Texsport deluxe…and where did he get that thing anyway?

            The boy didn't seem to mind John leaning against the doorframe. In fact, it didn't seem like he'd noticed. 

            "Connor," he heard behind him. He turned to see Kane standing a good foot or so taller than himself, propped up against the wall. "We've hot-wired two more RV's and a couple transport trucks. 5 vehicles in all that are still functional."

            For a moment, John contemplated this very sudden and almost surreal event. He had asked Kane and Ferrari to check the bunker for functional transportation units. _Asked_ not told. But here he was, two hours later with results in hand, ready to de-brief. His first order. Followed. It had happened. John Connor had taken command.  

            "Connor?" Kane's impatient grunt brought him back to Earth. 

            "Good. Tell Kate to start loading supplies. She knows which crates we tagged from med-labs and operations. And see if Mitchell's had any luck with the uplink tower." He held his breath, anticipating resentment, protest, an affronted look…He got a straight nod, and Kane disappeared. John gaped at this man, who probably hated him right now, walking down the hallway to do as he was told without confrontation. John Connor…_ leader of the world-wide resistance…_Leader. Until now that word never seemed real. He wondered briefly if he should be bothered. If it was at all inappropriate that it felt…natural. 

            He turned back to the boy's quarters and nearly jumped. The child's eyes were not fixated on the wall any longer but boring straight into John's. John froze as the boy studied him, his scathing glare a mixture of caution and curiosity. The first real connection he had made to anyone in the crew. John stood motionless, trapped in his trance.

            The new leader hesitated, afraid of shattering this unspoken trust that had been established. Then he moved forward. The boy didn't flinch. Gradually, John positioned himself right outside the camp-fire fort and crouched down, their eyes now level. The boy was taking harsh and sharp breaths, sweat breaking along his young brow, but still his glare held firm. There was something…disturbing there. 

            Slowly, he extended his hand over the upturned cot, "I'm John," he said.

            The boy remained still, as if struggling to make the final decision to leave his sheltered world behind the cots and accept the world they now had to face. Finally, he gripped John's hand, his arm darting out from his fort, and his small voice finally making itself known. "I'm Seth."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

****

Disclaimer: I of course…don't own any of The Terminator legend. The world and its characters belong to James Cameron and the Hollywood powers that be. I'm simply borrowing them for a while.

T4-Connor's War

Chapter 5

When Kate was very little, her mother Candace had insisted on sending her to camp Roosevelt for 8 weeks the summer before she stared 5th grade. To impress her father and not seem a wimp, she'd feigned excitement over the whole ordeal. But when the bus arrived that foggy morning, a longing tugged at her heart. An irrational fear that she would never see her home again.

It wasn't until now that Kate recalled those days of summer camp so vividly. That childhood nausea had resurfaced, and under the most unlikely of circumstances. It seemed so inconceivable in the immediate wake of Judgment Day that she could ever think of Crystal Peak as home. But it was. For the past two months, this place…and John…were all she'd known. 

"You ok?" Kate jumped. She was finding it a challenge, getting used to her other comrades when it been just her and John for so long. She turned around.

"Sorry," Mike Kinsella said, sheepishly, pushing his glasses up on the ridge of his nose.

Kate shrugged, heaving another crate up on the truck she was loading. "No need. Just didn't see you there." she hopped down and regarded her new friend. Showered and significantly healed from when she'd first found him, it was easy to see the resemblance between Mike and Jo. Same oval face, big hazel eyes, glasses. The two were quintessential laboratory scientists…forced now to become warriors. 

Mikey looked a bit like an embarrassed schoolboy as he shuffled his feet, struggling to say something. "Listen," he began, "I never really said thank you…for you know-"

But Kate shook her head. She didn't want gratitude…she didn't deserve it. "It's all right," she said, then hastily changed subjects. "Did you find anything useful?"

Crystal Peak had an abandoned research facility several levels below med-labs. During those first few nights, Mike had extensively educated John about the Gemini project and other Mercury-Tech experiments that were in preliminary stages before the bombs fell. Before they moved out, John told Mike and Jo to gather whatever they felt could be useful, particularly in recreating some of those experiments. 

Mike gestured to his bulging backpack before he added it to Kate's pile with a slightly cocky arch of the eyebrow. "Plenty," he answered her. Kate chuckled and Mike again cleared his throat. "Although I don't really know what Connor plans on doing with all of it. I mean, what good is replicating human skin tissue against like, a _million_ pounds of robotic weaponry?"

At this, Kate sighed, turning her head. For it was one in a very long line of questions about John that she couldn't answer lately. He hadn't said much to anyone in the past few days, save for the occasional order…and in her case, request. It was bad for morale. It worried her. 

"He's got a plan, Mikey," she offered, "and when we reach new ground, I'm sure you and Jo will be the first to know." 

Mike regarded her with a shrug, seemingly unconvinced, but didn't answer. Kate continued moving crates in the silence, hoping the conversation was over. But Mike spoke up again, "Have you two uh…known each other long?" Kate slammed another crate (this one held ammunition) and wiped off the sweat from her forehead on her sleeve. In vain, she struggled to find something else to distract them from this particular topic of conversation. The question, after all…had so many answers. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…" Mike trailed off uselessly, sensing his error. 

"No…" she said, realizing she was frowning and made a weak attempt at a smile. "No, it's ok. Um…" she thought for a moment more and then decided, "No…only a few months."

Mike nodded, grateful for the out and deposited the backpack on Kate's table. He moved to help Kane further down the line of trucks. Kate was left alone once more, contemplating the question that still hung in midair, demanding a real answer. As she did, she noticed John moving at the other end of the bunker. He seemed in the middle of a routine weapons check, his eyes traveling over the clutter of chambers, triggers, and barrels, somehow making sense of the chaos. And even over a hundred feet away, she could tell that while his trained hands worked habitually on the weaponry, his mind was in a mausoleum, gaping at a grave bearing the name of Sarah Connor. Kate sighed. 

"John says to ask if you need any help." Another voice, a new voice, startled her once again out of her trance. Kate looked up and blinked. It was the boy, standing in the bed of the truck, giving her a classic pre-teen look that challenged her as if to say- _What?_

"Well, I see you've decided to join us," she smiled. The boy didn't smile back and stood tapping his foot atop the crates she'd just loaded, waiting for instructions. Kate almost laughed at his impatience. She shook her head and planted her foot on the ground in front of her, pointing at the kid and then down to the floor. He nodded and hopped off, his head now significantly lower than hers and she handed him Mike's backpack. "Take this to John. Tell him it's Mikey's and have him look over what they found." He snatched at the pack and walked toward Connor's table. She watched in awe as John took it and nodded, watched as the child's face grew bright and vibrant as John issued a new command and he ran off towards med labs.

Kate didn't know how long she'd stood gaping after that. If John sensed her eyes on him, he didn't let on, and eventually she returned to her work. As she did so she felt her face grow warm and her stomach begin to tingle…Oh God…

"Try it now!" Rico called from beneath the consul. 

Luke cued up the CB. "Testing, testing, 1- 2- Hey! That did it, kid. Come on up."

Rico breathed a well deserved sigh of relief, pushing himself out from underneath the main ops station. He and Luke had been attempting to reconnect the concealed uplink tower at the base under John's orders to devise a sort of reversed message-in-a-bottle. The object was to record an encoded message within the base systems that could inform and direct any other survivors that stumbled across Crystal Peak, without exposing Skynet to the source. Rico frankly couldn't see the point since these machines were supposed to be super-smart, but he relished in the challenge of recalibrating something more complex than a cash register.

Luke, however, understood. The goal was not to give away the crew's new position, but to inform whoever came along that it was indeed the machines that had turned. Martin Kane wasn't the only person who had doubted Connor's explanation that night. But it was increasingly evident that he was the only one among them willing to take command. Luke often found himself wondering who this man was. How did he know so much? How could someone so young look so old?…if he only knew. "Tell Connor we're ready to uplink."

"John!" Jo raced across the bunker, carting a bag behind her.

John turned from the set of lockers he and Kate had discovered early on in their isolation. Jo reached him, out of breath and held open the bag. "This enough?"

John glanced down. The duffle was packed full of emergency rations, gathered from the kitchens and freezers deeper in the base. John frowned, "Um…" he tried tactfully, "we're gonna need more than that-"

"Oh I know!" Jo said breathlessly, "Kane and I have 14 of these bags."

John smiled with a decisive nod, "'S more like it." He turned back to his work. Jo was about to leave but curiosity got the better of her. "What…what are those?"

John's eyes remained fixed on the locker in front of him, "Body gear. Armor, combat apparel." He felt Jo gulp behind him and he longed for the power to turn to her, ensure her it was just a precaution. But that was impossible. This young woman _would_ one day need to don the gear facing her and feel the iron-cold handle of a gun in her hands. She would learn to fight and learn to die. It was all part of the grim reality that inevitably followed him his entire life. A reality to which Jo Kinsella and her other comrades now belonged. 

"Ask Kate how long before the caravan is ready to move out." Jo nodded and he felt her silent gratitude for giving her something else to do. In the past 36 hours, John had discovered the secret to post-traumatic stress therapy. His orders not only ensured efficiency, but gave his entire crew something to keep their minds off of the Doomsday days still to come. In fact, the only one who seemed not to need such regimented distraction…was Seth. At the thought, John suppressed a proud grin. He was still the only one Seth seemed to respond to. And although John couldn't figure out for the life of him why, Seth was the only one of the group who seemed to exist solely to follow orders. Instead of the diversion they inspired in his peers, chores and assignments seemed to breathe life into the boy. And while a part of John recognized this wasn't exactly healthy…neither was hiding behind upturned cots.

When Crystal Peak closed down for the night, the crew was exhausted, having spent the better part of 3 days wiping the base of all its possible resources and preparing for the move at dawn. Continuously growing accustomed to his role, Connor all but ordered them to bed, while he resumed his nightly vigil at Operations.

"How much longer do you think we have?"

John swiveled around in his chair and was not at all surprised to see Kate, standing in the archway. He sighed as she walked forward and he turned back to the monitors, "Hard to tell. 2 days maybe? That's why I want to get moving tomorrow." Kate nodded as she drew up a chair beside him. John made a casual nod toward the crew quarters, "I'd move them out tonight if I could, but-"

"But they need to ease into it," Kate finished softly. John paused mid-sentence, the hints of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Kate looked down. She'd been finishing his sentences a lot lately…she used to do that with Scott. Moments more passed in silence. Finally, Kate leaned forward, resting her wrists upon her knees, an amused grin on her face. "So how'd you do it?"

John kept his head lowered but raised his eyes to meet hers, "Do what?"

"Seth."

This time, John did smile. Actually, even he couldn't really believe the transformation in the boy. For the first time, as he had observed earlier, the kid seemed alive. He looked up at Kate still waiting for an answer. He shrugged, "I gave him something to do."

Kate shook her head with a chuckle and leaned back. She stared at the ceiling as if she were staring at stars and sighed. "I hope you're that profound with our-" She froze.

John glanced up but didn't flinch. Kate however, blushed furiously as she kept her eyes glued to the ceiling. Eventually, she swung her gaze down and stared at the floor instead in the torturous silence that followed as she prayed her blunder would just mercifully pass.

John too, shifted uncomfortably but more out of frustration. Even in all their time before the call came from Mercury-Tech, this had been the one thing neither one of the seemed able to talk about. A prophecy that to both of them should have been a given by now. Truths they'd been avoiding all along. 

"_Later your children will become important…she's your wife…your John Connor's spouse and second-in-command."_ Kate shivered as that chilly, robotic voice filled her head like it always did whenever she was anywhere _near_ him. It _was_ the truth, wasn't it? Their future? Their life together? The Terminator had said so in his own tactless way, yet neither of them seemed able to address it out loud. _John Connor's spouse._ It scared her how something so seemingly preposterous could feel so…appropriate. 

"I guess I'll…t-turn in," she whispered, suddenly hoarse. But she made no move to leave. Only sat, silently pleading for him to say something…_anything_. John winced as that awkward feeling tugged at his stomach. As if opportunity had opened wide for a brief second and shut itself tight again. He beheld her. She was beautiful; an observation as true as it was obvious. In fact, if John ever allowed himself to remember existence before Judgment Day, he could truthfully claim he'd thought so then…all those years ago. Could he tell her that now? Was he even _allowed_ to feel this way? Was he capable of the words? "Kate," he murmured softly, leaning forward. But John never even had a chance to try.

The second attack began at 1:16am. 

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

****

Disclaimer: I of course…don't own any of The Terminator legend. The world and its characters belong to James Cameron and the Hollywood powers that be. I'm simply borrowing them for a while.

T4-Connor's War

Chapter 6

They shook once. Twice. The Earth rumbled as it had only a few short months ago but the tremors were closer now. Crystal Peak had been found. 

"Move out! Now! Clear out come on!" John found himself screaming at his crew as they shuffled hurriedly out of their quarters. Rico awoke first. Followed by Kane, then Luke. Kate was already powering the caravan, still prepped and secured from the night before. The timing was almost impeccable, John allowed his subconscious to muse as his body ran through the nearly habitual motions of moving out his team. It was almost as if _they_ knew John was anxious to move out and attacked just when it appeared they'd make it out on time. _Goddamn robots,_ he clenched his fists as Mikey and Jo stumbled into the hallway, packs half slung over their shoulders, Mikey still strapping on his boots. 

"What is it? Another nuclear attack?" Jo's voice had regressed to the hysterical shriek that greeted him at their first meeting. But Connor was no longer the patient benefactor. 

"HKs," he said briskly, pointing her in the direction of the bunker, "keep moving."

"HKs?" he heard her cry, but Mikey had already taken the hint and continued to steer his sister to where Kate and the others were waiting. John took a mental count. Five. And he knew who was missing. 

"Seth?!" he screamed as the ground shook again. Another rock like that and the Hunter Killers will have gotten through the blast shutters. They had to move…_now!_ "Seth!" he shouted again, ducking away from a falling air duct. But the boy was nowhere to be seen. Connor made a sweep of Seth's room, and the others adjoining. He rushed, panting to the hallway, down the corridor, under cots in med-labs, and raced back to ops before the next tremor came. "Seth!"

"John?" He spun around just as another blast shattered the glass panes in Operations and Kate smashed against the far wall, bracing herself against the shock. 

"Kate, get back to the trucks!" he waved her off, still frantically looking for Seth. 

"Kane's got it started already. We're ready to-"

"We're not leaving!" he stalked past her, pointing her back to the bunker. 

"John-"

"No…h-he's around here…somewhere, I've gotta-"

"John we've got to go!" Kate screamed, throwing her arm over her head, avoiding falling debris as best she could. "They'll be right on top of us in a few minutes! John!" she grabbed for his arm but missed as she tumbled forward. Kate let out a shriek as she landed hard on her already bruised shoulder. 

John stopped, mid-stride at the sound of her cry and spun around in time to see a pillar crack loose from its beams in the ceiling and crumble down on top of her. "Kate!" He ran towards the pile of plaster and decaying concrete, driving home the fact that Crystal Peak was decades old. Kate coughed as the dust flew around her and the ground shook again. "Kate! Hang on," John cried. She was holding her arm close to her chest, screeching in pain as she tried to pull herself loose. Several bricks had tumbled down around her and more still were threatening from above. Kate's leg was stuck. "Hang on," he repeated, sweat beading down his face. 

"John," she coughed, "You've gotta…gh-het them outta here-"

"Shut up and help me!" he ordered as the veins in his arm threatened to burst out of his skin, striving to lift an enormous slab of concrete off of her thigh. Kate struggled with her good arm to hoist herself out from under it. Finally she pulled herself free. "Come on," John coaxed, bracing his arms around her waist and pulling her to her feet. She was no good to walk. Connor assessed that immediately. Her right leg had been completely mangled by the brick. She crashed against his chest and he braced them both against the wall as they felt another blast. Any minute now an HK would come crashing through the ceiling and the great resistance would be crushed before it begun. John stole one more look around his base now crumbling apart. There never was any sign of Seth. He had disappeared. And John was out of time. Something lurched in his stomach as he mentally ticked off Seth as *missing in action…_Missing in Action…_he felt ill… He ignored it. 

His steel grip tightened around Kate's waist and he heaved her up in his arms. John took off in a sprint toward the bunker where a caravan of RV's and pick-ups were ready to move out. _You must live._

"Connor! Get your ass up-"

"Kate! What happened-"

"Is she all righ-"

But Connor heard none of them, refusing to heed such civilian wails. "Move out Kane! Now!" he called as he passed the first vehicle. Kane didn't need to be told twice and the RV sped away through the bay doors and into the mountains. _John Connor is leader of the great resistance and humanity's last best hope for survival._ Connor lifted a nearly unconscious Kate up onto the bed of the supply truck where Dr. Mitchell had taken hold of her under the arms and braced her against the cab. Connor slammed his fist against the cab door where Rico, waiting in the driver's seat, nodded and sped off after Kane.

Mikey and Jo were in the last vehicle, Mikey in almost full body gear and Jo at the wheel. He tossed John a pulse rifle and made wild motions at him with his arms to get aboard. "Come _on!_" he cried. John nodded, cocking the weapon back as he grabbed hold of a steel handle and stepped upon the moving land rover just as the bunker's dome came crashing down. _The only way to beat these machines is to survive them first and fight them later. _John glared at the hole where the ceiling had been as Jo floored the vehicle forward. Two HKs emerged from the blackness and John held his breath, aiming the rifle up and fired. 

"Faster!" Mikey shouted to his sister as they dodged another blast from the machine. John fired an entire round and then dove to prone position. He held up the gun to Mikey. "Not gonna get it done." Without another word, he reached into the stockade pile and pulled out his PT76 rocket launcher. He turned on his enemy, his back pressed flat to the bed of the rover, his eyes boring like lasers at his predator. "Get down," he said as Mikey ducked toward the front. "Fucking machine," he muttered and fired. 

The explosion was nearly deafening. Far closer than anything John or Kate heard that night as the world died miles above them in Crystal Peak. This was point blank. Up close and personal. The HK before him exploded and a spectacular shower of debris and flames pelted down after them. "Floor it Jo!" 

Jo shrieked back as piece of burning metal seared past her. John squinted up at the black cloud before him. One HK had been terminated. The other seemed to have backed off and their directional coordinates were taking them deep into the heat of the mountains, excellent surroundings for throwing off infrared scanners. As the rover ground over the rough terrain and his base disappeared behind the canyon wall, only then did John realize that they would never see Seth again.

Panting heavily, he turned in the bed of the rover and listened as the remaining HK decimated what was left of Crystal Peak.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I of course…don't own any of The Terminator legend. The world and its characters belong to James Cameron and the Hollywood powers that be. I'm simply borrowing them for a while.**

T4-Connor's War

Chapter 7

            "Missouti! Get down!" Kane screamed as he lit the flame thrower and fired at the T-8. They'd only been on duty for 70 minutes and this was already the third infiltration. Kane aimed right for its primary weakness, exposed circuitry below the torso plating, and the machine shorted out. Missouti finished the job with a low powered grenade. 

            "Hit the deck!" he shouted back and the two dove for cover as the enemy was destroyed. 

            Kane waited a few more minutes and got to his feet, brushing off his jeans with his cap. He gave his comrade a perturbed look, "Hit the deck?"

            Missouti finished dusting himself off too, looked up and shrugged. "Sounded better than 'duck.'" Kane rolled his eyes and turned away, muttering under his breath. Missouti ignored him.

            Dennis Missouti was one of two more survivors added on the crew's trek north from the Sierras. After several days of travel, stopping only to take cover from impending attacks, they came across an old fallout shelter, still protected and undiscovered. Kane would never forget the look on Brewster's face when the bunker was opened up and only three people had made it down there to begin with. Still, the resistance was growing. 

            Dennis was a little older than Rico, early twenties, and was visiting old college friends in the area. One of these friends, Susan Wallace, had made it down to the bunker in time and was now a part of the resistance. The other, her husband Danny, had died pushing her inside. The two had been on an environmental expedition, studying dormant volcanoes in the Cascade Mountains near Crater Lake.  The third person found in the bunker was a gentleman named Anthony Richmond. But his appendix had ruptured a few hours before Connor's small crew had found them. There was nothing Dr. Mitchell could do.

            Kane cocked back an AK-47, his personal favorite, and resumed his post. They had been assigned to guard the south gate to their new base. In just a few weeks, the crew had turned the fallout shelter at Crater Lake into a makeshift headquarters for operations. The structure was already more stable than Crystal Peak had been, and contained rations and equipment that easily improved their own stockpile. But in the 4 hours they'd been on duty, this had been the third infiltration. The first two were HKs. Easy to detect. Too big and bulky for sufficient maneuverability. As long as they could replenish their ammunition, HKs posed no fatal threats.

            But the T-8s were different. These were new. The first, Connor knew, in a very long line of Terminator models. Fast. Agile. Not quite humanoid yet, but there were already parallels between the T-8 and the T-101 in mechanical and skeletal structure. In the resistance's first encounter with a T-8, Jo Kinsella was almost killed.

            "I'm heading back," Missouti said, taking his weapon with him. "I'll send Ferrari out when I get there." He rose from his seat and looked to Kane for some sort of acknowledgment that he'd been heard. The grunt he received would have to suffice. Dennis sighed and headed for the ops center of Crater Lake.

            "It's been 4 days," John slammed his fist on the table, scattering maps and medicinal supplies as he did so. Luke calmly sighed as he bent to retrieve them as John continued. "They should have reported in by now. Even if they couldn't find anything, I told them they were to contact the base within 48 hours regardless of their findings."

            "They might be too far away to get a signal," Luke offered as he tried to resume his aid. Connor sustained daily injuries. It actually started amusing Dr. Mitchell after a while how John would come into his makeshift office with fresh cuts, scrapes…gashes on his arms and legs almost every day. He'd come to the conclusion that either John Connor had an extremely high tolerance for pain…or he simply didn't feel it anymore.

            John shook his head. "We agreed on the mile radius. That's impossible."

            "Maybe Jo got scared that Skynet would track them?" he offered again. But it was clear John wasn't interested in rational explanations. Jo and Mikey set out 4 days beforehand in search of more supplies. The stretch of Cascades they had found seemed to have sustained minimal damage in the attack. After several arguments, they convinced John to let them head an expedition to further explore the region for more ammunition and food. 

            "No," John shook his head, hopping of the cot practically before Luke was even finished. "No, I'll have Rico modify the tower. Increase the wattage. There's gotta be a way to-"

            "Have you even seen her today?" Luke cut in. John's eyes shot up like knives…but Luke held firm. It was risky to say the least. Challenging John Connor on such a personal level. In the past month or so since he and Kate took them under wing, Luke and most of the others had grown to look to John as the leader he was always meant to be. Followed orders and commands without argument. Never quite understood but accepted that he and he alone somehow knew how to fight back. He was the key to humanity's survival. 

            But when it came to his patients, Dr. Mitchell's priorities were steadfast. Since the collapse of Crystal Peak, Kate had been incapacitated. No movement in her leg, splintered wrist, broken arm…though this wasn't what concerned him. The physical damage would eventually heal and Kate Brewster would be the strong woman she always had been…on the outside.

            But in the past few days, John's visits grew more and more infrequent. As if something held him back and he seemed unable to even look at her fully unless she was asleep. John realized that Mitchell would not back down and he dropped his gaze, sighing as he pinched the ridge of his nose and winced, "Not today, no."

            Luke just nodded and finished taping up the gauze on his shoulder, leaving John alone on the cot. He knew Luke was right. He also knew no amount of military excuses could be made to explain the sheer terror he felt when he got anywhere near Kate. For the first few months of the war, an unmistakable connection had been established between the two. Before, Kate's presence was a comfort. A sanctuary. But the only thing he felt near her anymore…was Seth. Even now, he felt it. The exam room wasn't far from Kate's. He shrugged on his jacket, ignoring the sharp pain in his arm as he did so and peered around the corner. And there she was, lying on her cot, sleeping. Pain struck him again in the chest, but this time, it hurt. It was the _only_ pain he felt anymore. He stood for a long time, leaning against the doorframe, watching her chest rise and fall; seeing at the same time the collapse of Crystal Peak; reliving the pillar falling from the ceiling…feeling himself give up on Seth…all over again.

            Compounded memories. It was too much to bear. And he pulled away, feeling the pain deepen as the one person who had the power to ease it remained the one person who caused it. She was his salvation…and she was his curse. 

Silently, he pulled the door closed and she felt him move away. And Kate felt the familiar warmth and saltiness of her tears trickle down her cheek. She would never ask for him. He would come on his own…when he was ready. And she would wait.

* * *

            "Jo! Come on! Connor said to check-in ever 48. We've got to get back to the truck."

            "Shh!" Jo waved him off, "2 seconds," she carefully lifted the vile from its freezer unit and added it to her case. Brother and sister had been out for almost 4 days and without much success, complicated by the fact that they'd had to evade 2 HKs already. But John had trained them well and they'd succeeded in the outsmarting and concealment department…for now. Still, their search for more weapons, supplies and survivors had ended quite poorly. In fact, just a few hours beforehand, they had already decided to give up completely when they came across what was left of a small tech-institute. Jo's flare for biochemistry kicked in and she insisted on gathering as many raw materials as possible. Still trying to maintain some sense of normalcy in her life, Jo preferred to think of herself as the same devoted scientist she had always been. Judgment Day was merely a problem. Her job now, to find a solution. (It rarely worked…but for now, it kept her occupied)

            However, as pleased as Mikey was that they wouldn't be returning to Crater Lake two days late and empty-handed, he had an eerie feeling that their time was running out. "Jo, I'm pulling rank. We're leaving!"

            Joe turned with that familiar amused arch of the eyebrow she'd used on him as a kid and for a moment, Mikey was grateful for the memory, "You're pulling rank?" her hands came to her hips.

            But Mikey still wasn't joking. "Connor put _me_ in charge of this mission. And I say we're leaving!"

            "Calm down Mikey, I'm done-"

            "Is somebody there?" a human voice cut through the air-en entity to completely phenomenal anymore that both Kinsellas froze to be sure of the real thing. When the voice called again, Mikey pulled back from the pile of rubble Jo sat upon and started darting around. "We're here! We've come to help! Where are you?"

            "Is somebody there?" the voice repeated for a third time. And then again. And again.

            "Yes!" Mikey flailed his arms about wildly, as if searching for Candid camera. But Jo remained silent. Something wasn't right. Fear gripped her chest and suddenly…it was all too clear. 

            "Mikey, shut up!" she hissed, slowly reaching inside her pack and felt for it…that cold steel handle of weaponry she swore she would never use. Instruments of destruction and chaos unfit for a scientist…now instruments of fate, instruments of survival. She drew the pulse rifle from the pack and aimed straight for her brother.

            "Duck!" she screamed. Mikey dove below the debris as the threat rolled out from behind the half-crumbled wall. 

"Is somebody there?" the machine screeched again, and it suddenly didn't sound remotely human. Had Jo not been so intensely focused, the sheer size of this creature could have paralyzed her in fear. It was a T-8…but no, it wasn't. Similar structure yes, slightly bulkier perhaps…but T-8s couldn't imitate or mimic human vocal chords. John would have warned them about that. And yet, here it rolled before them, barrels open, powering up, a broken record playing on through its circuitry. 

Jo's eyes narrowed and her once trembling hands now gripped firm as she launched a grenade right at its center. The explosion rocked her off her pile and she fell beside Mikey. "Let's go!" Mikey grabbed her arm and the two sprinted off away from the blast. The truck was about a 100 feet away. They might make it if they kept pace. But Jo gasped, "My pack," she cried, looking back. 

"Forget it! Keep running!"

"No! We need it! There's stuff in there we can-"

"Jo we're out of-" but Mikey stopped mid-sentence as he too turned around. The dust and smoke had cleared…and the new T design emerged completely unscathed.

"Oh my God," she screamed. 

"Jo, come on!"

"Oh my God!" Mikey was practically dragging her towards the truck. Her focus gone, concentration nearly shattered. And all the while, the machine gained more ground. Mikey threw open the driver's door and pushed Jo inside. "Start the car!" but Jo just stared at the weapon in her hand. A weapon that had been useless. And the machine had already reached her pathetic bag of chemical samples still lying upon the rubble-

"Jo! Snap out of it!

The chemicals-

"What's _wrong_ with you!"

But Jo knew what she had to do now. Without a second more hesitation, she cocked the rifle once more in the seat of the truck and aimed for the bag. The machine was nearly on top of it.

"Jo! It's no good!"

Almost there…

"It won't work!"

Bull's-eye. Jo fired. And the grenade struck the bag. The shockwave shot underneath them and the truck was lifted slightly off the ground before it came crashing down again. But neither Mikey nor Jo screamed—merely held their breaths as they waited for the dust to clear. When it did, the machine had been destroyed. 

They sat in their beat up truck, stunned. The clang of Jo's gun hitting the floor was the only sound for minutes on end. 

"Jo…" Mikey finally whispered. And Jo turned into her brother's arms and sobbed.

"Kinsella…" the radio garbled through the CB. "Kinsella do you copy?"

Still holding onto Jo, Mikey reached for the radio and clicked it on. "Mike here."

"Shit Kinsella! Where the hell have you been?" Rico's voice rang of relief and Mikey had an odd feeling that John Connor was standing right next to him. Jo's shoulders hitched again and he closed his eyes. 

"Got a bit held up. We're coming in."

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I of course…don't own any of The Terminator legend. The world and its characters belong to James Cameron and the ****Hollywood**** powers that be. I'm simply borrowing them for a while.**

T4-Connor's War

Chapter 8

Mikey couldn't be completely sure. It was an emotion one just didn't see in their leader, nearly unrecognizable in those wise aged eyes. But for a split second, he thought he distinctly saw a trace of fear across John Connor's face. He dismissed it of course. John Connor didn't fear anything. Always prepared, anticipating, ready for whatever Skynet threw at them. Must have been his imagination. 

            Still, as Connor almost immediately withdrew after they debriefed, Mikey couldn't help a chill that went through his spine as he watched his leader's shoulders, slightly slumped, disappear down the corridor. A chill that for a moment, broke down all illusions of security and hope they felt under his command. A chill not unlike the cold dread of their truck rolling over the remains of thousands of lost souls.

            He kicked a chipped rock across the dry desert, once a fertile land of greens and yellows and reds. John missed the fall. The season of false hope. The brief period of time where everything was beautiful…just before winter killed it. They were all in for a very long winter now. 26 years of winter if the original prophecy of Kyle Reese…his father…was to be believed. They were barely six months into it and already the machines had learned the first stages of human imitation. 

            He refused to think about the little boy, whose voice was recorded for that T-8, and then killed after serving Skynet's revolting purpose. He refused to think about the Terminator designs, already evolving faster than he anticipated. John could already see key features of the T101 in even the earliest models. He refused to think, as he kicked his fourth rock, that these weren't rocks at all…but chipped bone fragments from people he would never meet, people he didn't save. 

            No, John Connor refused to think as the cool wintery air grazed past his bare shoulders, kissing his cheeks ever so gently and the ghosts of Judgment Day whispered in the night air, asking why. "What am I doing here mom?" he said out loud. But she didn't answer. She never did. For 19 years Sarah Connor had taught her son what he needed to know to survive, to fight, to win…but never to grieve. It was a luxury they couldn't afford. John lived in a man-made world controlled by machines where grief…was a luxury.

            This realization would make a normal man vomit. But John just stood on his mound of the dead, his eyes searching the horizon as if the autumn sun were setting on a cool November eve, wishing his mother had taught him just to fight the machines…not become one. 

That night was the last time John would call to Sarah. She was dead to him now. He loved her, but refused to become her…And just as Kate was beginning to think that she'd lost him forever…he finally came. 

* * * 

            "Is somebody there," Rico said thoughtfully and Mikey nodded. "Is somebody there," he repeated, "And it just kept saying it over and over again?"

            "And it sounded real?" Dennis asked, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. 

            Again, Mikey nodded. "Yeah…like they recorded…" the thought was too horrific for him to finish.

            But not for Kane, "Like they recorded a live kid?"

            "Shit Kane, we all knew what he meant," Rico muttered. 

"Fuck you, Ferrari," he snapped. The group divided up the day's rations near the barrier. No one felt truly safe enough to take a real break anymore so lunch was usually brought to whoever was on duty. They ate with rags draped over their rifles resting securely in their laps. Today, the majority of their small resistance stuck close at the perimeter, listening to Mikey's report. Only Jo and Dr. Mitchell were elsewhere.

Dennis leaned forward, taking a bite out of his hardened corn bread. "Did Connor think that was a good sign?" 

Mikey reeled back, "How the _hell_ could it be a _good_ sign?!" 

"No, he's right," Susan Wallace, who up until now had remained silent, knew where her old friend's mind was going, "If they were _recording_ some kid's voice, that means they didn't kill him right away, right? So maybe they didn't kill him at all. Maybe they take prisoners-"

"You definitely haven't fought enough of the bastards yet," Kane grunted. "They don't take prisoners."

"We don't know that for sure. Maybe-"

            "Maybe nothin'! Look, whatever kid that was is long dead, got it?"

            "Hey back off, Kane. She's not the bad guy-"

            "No and neither are the Terminators apparantley-"

            "That's _not what I said-"_

            "Is somebody there?"

            The entire group froze and Mikey's face went white. "Is somebody there?" they heard again…and again. Lunch was over.

            Dennis Missouti had known Susan even longer than he'd known her husband Danny…her husband who'd died protecting her, pushing her inside their bunker before he was struck hard on the head with debris. 

            They'd all met as undergrads in Ann Arbor. Dennis was pre-law and Susan and Danny were both environmental science geeks, but they all had at least one thing in common and that was touch football every season, every Saturday. And Susan had always been the hardest to beat. 

            He remembered that look of determination in her eye whenever she got the ball. The way she would practically leap over her opponents, thinking nothing of the bruises she was giving her then future-husband as she skirted passed him, her only goal to reach the endzone. 

            And as he watched her fight that machine, watched her grab the automatic out of Mikey's frozen hands and fire an entire round before Kane could reload his ammo, he wondered if it was wrong that something so terrible could remind him of something so pure. 

            The battle was difficult. The new modifications that Mikey and Jo had encountered in the field held firm here and it took Rico, Kane _and Susan holding him back to buy him and Mikey enough time to construct a grenade with some of Jo's leftover chemicals. In the end they won out with only a few scratches and minor burns for Doc. Mitchell to patch up. Rico took the hardest beating, so Dennis took over for him while Kane walked him to the makeshift infirmary. Mikey took what was left of the rations to his sister, leaving two old friends alone again on the perimeter. _

            He watched as she wrapped a small cut with a shredded rag. "You ok?"

            She nodded, "Fine."

            Dennis fought the urge to sigh. He was used to _that_ by now. Since she'd lost Danny, her answer to everything was "Fine."

            "You fight pretty good, Lefty." For a moment, he saw the light return to her eyes at the mention of a very old nickname…a nickname Danny hadn't even known about. He watched, knowing she was reliving freshman year, the day she broke her right wrist after slipping off a ladder in the planetarium. 'Lefty' stuck for as long as she had the cast on. After that, he didn't dare use it again…until now. And now…it didn't seem to matter.

            "Thanks," she said, polishing off the handle of Mikey's automatic after she reloaded the ammunition. She paused as the rag brushed over her wedding ring and the band glimmered for a moment…though there was no sun. 

            He knelt beside her, "Susan-"

            But she shook her head, "Don't."

            He nodded and backed away. And they watched and waited…for a friend that would never come home. 

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I of course…don't own any of The Terminator legend. The world and its characters belong to James Cameron and the Hollywood powers that be. I'm simply borrowing them for a while.**

**Author's note: I know I haven't updated this in a while and I have probably lost many of my regular readers on this one. To be honest, I don't know that I will be going all the way through to John sending Reese back as I had originally planned anytime soon, but allow me for the time being at least, to leave you with this final tag. The end, if you will, to the second chapter of John Connor's life. I hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I've enjoyed writing. **

T4-Connor's War

Chapter 9

When he rounded the corner to her room, he hadn't expected Doc Mitchell to be there. At John's urging, Doc often retired earlier than most in order to be alert and ready if and when casualties came in. But there he was, standing over her cot, murmuring.

The movement caught his eye and he looked up, pausing at the admittedly surprising sight of John Connor at Kate's door. John watched the good doctor suppress a grin before patting Kate's hand and circling around the cot. As he approached, John straightened up, "Problem?"

Mitchell looked back at her, "Complained of some abdominal pain, but it's nothing serious. More of the same bruises trying to heal."

John nodded, still watching the girl, her head turned away from them. "Thanks."

Mitchell hesitated for a moment, "Do you…are you here to see me?"

John cast a sideways glance, his eyes challenging…as if daring Mitchell to remind him of their conversation that morning. "No," he said finally. And with that, the doctor was gone.

He left John still standing in the doorway, leaning against its frame. He knew she was awake. But a part of him felt quite content in the simple act of watching her rest. And perhaps it was this very realization that moved him finally into the room.

"Kate?" he whispered, circling round to the small stool on the other side. She watched, her hazel eyes already moist and hesitant as he sat down beside her. It was a few more moments before either of them spoke. After a time, it was Kate who broke the ice.

"Took you long enough, soldier," she said quietly, a small slow grin tugging at her mouth.

He looked down, rubbing his hands together. "Sorry," he mumbled. It was frustrating to say the least. A lifetime of preparation and John Connor suddenly found himself without plan or agenda, at a complete loss for words.

But it was Kate. She didn't need them. "How are they?" she offered.

It worked. "Strong," he said. "Took down 2 HKs this morning. Got a rhythm going."

"Ammo?"

John winced, "Low. And no luck with Mickey's search. They lost most of what they found in their escape."

Kate closed her eyes, the sheer idea of a machine imitating a human child was sickening enough. She could just imagine how Jo had reacted. "Doc told me about the T-9," she said.

John looked up. "I'm sorry."

"John, I have to know when something like that happens-"

"No," he cut-in. He looked down at her crushed leg, cast with makeshift, half-ass 1950's bandages. "I'm sorry."

Kate understood. "It wasn't your fault," she whispered.

"I went back for Seth."

"Of course you did."

"Didn't follow my instincts. I already knew he was gone."

Kate laced her fingers through his, clasped against the edge of the cot. "Of course you did."

He looked back at her, his eyes heavy and dim, "And you got hurt."

Kate sighed, using her free hand to hoist herself up in bed just a little further. "We're at war," she reminded him, almost as if he'd really forgotten. "It's going to happen."

John squeezed her hand, "It can't happen to you."

She frowned, "John-"

"I need you, Kate."

Kate paused, her breath hitched in her throat and something tight pulled at her stomach. John never was one for idle conversation. The reality of their present. The veracity of their future. Everything she always knew to be true about the Terminator's prophecy, their life together, all suddenly staring right at her through a pair of stone-gray eyes, hardened by war but soft enough still for just one person. Kate could barely breathe.

"I've lived my whole life alone," he went on, both hands now clasped around hers. "And that was always s'posed to be good enough. But I don't think I can do it anymore." His eyes started to sting as he leaned forward, "I can't fight machines if I don't feel human."

Her tears came first, and she managed to whisper his name amidst the tidal wave of emotions that came with this declaration.

"You…you make me feel human, Kate," he finished, his voice breaking. And it was a few moments before he realized he was crying too. For the first time since Judgment Day, John Connor cried. And his tears spilled full and free as he brushed hers away with the pad of his thumb, resting his hand beneath her chin and kissed her.

It had been so long since either had felt any real joy, that Kate barely recognized it as she curled her fingers through his hair. For her, it was so much more than a kiss. It was a vow. In it, she was finally certain…they would win. They _would_ defeat the machines. And their fate wouldn't be left merely to destiny or chance. It was decision. One they made together…

…Sarah Connor had been right after all.


End file.
